


Inconspicuous

by Dogg



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, BAMF Emma Swan, Drunk Sex, Emma Swan Has a Penis, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Fighting, Fluff, Guns, Injury, Jail, Major Original Character(s), Minor Angst, Minor Original Character(s), Model Regina, Organized Crime, Size Kink, Smut, Violence, ex con, minor cheating, minor daddy kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24536371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogg/pseuds/Dogg
Summary: She was a loser. A two bit conwoman working odd jobs to stay afloat. A liar, a thief, and a criminal. A brute, a goon, and a low life. That’s what she was, and yet Emma was so sweet when she held Regina.OrRegina and Emma have been forced together by Cora, they against her wishes with dangerous consequences.Bad at summaries, basically an excuse to write a tattooed Emma smoking cigarettes on a motorcycle.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Emma Swan
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for tuning in, all suggestions are welcome :) Sorry for any weird formatting
> 
> enjoy <3

Lighting candles in a sticky dive bar on ones birthday was never ideal, even less so when your new boss summons you to discuss terms barely a second after it’s lit and your candle just happens to double as a cigarette. Her very elaborate birthday ‘cake’ was a round of cheap white cake flavored vodka with a big red bow poorly drawn on an already stained napkin. She downs her last two shots and crosses the sticky floor without paying.

“Hey, Swan! You gonna pay for those? And how many times do I have to tell you not to bring that damn knife.” The bartender huffs, without any real malice.

“The same amount of times the cops have to tell you your boss doesn’t have a liquor license, Dan.” Emma states cockily, ducking under the chuckling owner’s arm as she slips out the front door. Spotting her bike was easy, even with the rain and the haze of smoke in her face from her cigarette. Between two beaters and a fire hydrant sat her beloved rusty beast of a canary yellow cruiser. Starting her up was a little rough these days but she roared just as loud as ever.

Now Emma had known which way she’d driven, she checked the little card containing the address around four times at each light on the way. She’d done it all but somehow she still couldn’t believe the hotel her new boss summoned her to. It was the kind you only saw in commercials and she’d never felt more out of place on a job. Her boots felt heavier and after refusing a persistent valet, she parked her bike on the curb and lit another cigarette to keep her hands busy. The blonde walked through big glass doors and stomped up to the front desk like she owned it. Emma felt she covered her anxiety pretty well if the frazzled look of the desk clerk had any merit.

“C-can I help you um,” The man faltered as he looked for the imprint of her small breasts for confirmation. “Miss?” Emma scoffed.

“Yeah I’m hear for a,” she balanced her cigarette in the corner of her mouth to speak and withdrew the card again. “Cora Mills.” She grunted and the clerk almost looked scared, his hands shook as he called up and waved her to the elevator.

It was almost funny how strange the woman looked here, smoking in the lobby and her dirt caked boots smearing the flooring as she waited for the elevator. A woman was waiting with her, looking outraged by the blonde’s existence alone. Emma’s style was very ‘white trash chic’ as she liked to call it. Her hair was stringy from not bothering to shy away from the rain and a faded, black tank top covered up the majority of her tattoos but the ink the old woman could see had her scandalized. Emma’s old jacket had scratches and stains from one too many trips to the bar on the leather and her ripped jeans were in much the same state. The tall blonde thinks she sees the woman cross herself seeing the knife on her hip. The elevator dings. Saved by the bell. Unsurprisingly, the woman doesn’t join her new leather clad friend in the cab. Inside the small space, she has time to think. To try and get used to the polished, haughty hotel enough to get in, get paid and get the hell out.

Too soon for her liking, Emma arrived on the tenth floor. Upon the doors opening, it isn’t hard to tell where she’s meant to be. The penthouse door is one of four on the floor and The farthest down the hall is guarded by two substantial looking men in suits. Emma waltzes up to the door arrogantly, letting her cigarette fall to the ground and crushing it rudely on the tile with her boot.

“I’m looking for Cora.” She says simply. As one man opens the door she sneers. “Good, boy.” The guards bristled before begrudgingly allowing her in. The suite is gorgeous, white marble flooring with lush furniture and a full fireplace. A short woman with auburn hair greeted her with a grimace and a decanter. Something in Cora’s face feels as if she is already trying to take her apart and reassemble her into something useful, easily controlled. She isn’t to be trusted.

“Ms. Swan, I presume?” She says walking to the tall chair in the living room.

“You presume correctly, Mills.” The blonde said running a hand through her wet hair. 

“Sit.” The woman orders. “Please, we have much to discuss.” She smiled falsely, somehow Emma feels as if she’s being lured into a trap. She walks away from the only exit uneasily, resting her hand on the hilt of her knife. Emma drops down heavily on the sofa, slouching before her new employer and tossing the offered tumbler of amber liquid back quickly. She isn’t used to feeling this unsettled, this rattled by a job.

“So, what’s my purpose here? With all the zeros you offered it looked like you might want someone dead.” Emma chuckled without humor.

“And if I did?” Cora said curiously, testing boundaries and refilling the brute’s glass. The blonde leaned foreword, once again draining the glass.

“Then I’d say you got the wrong low life.” There was no room for negotiation in her tone, for a while the only sound in the room was the far away noise of the streets below. Cora hummed.

“We’ll discuss that as necessary, but no, I don’t wish for any death in particular at the moment. However I do want you to act as a guard of sorts.” Emma laughed, propping one boot on the table obnoxiously.

“You don’t think you have enough?”

“The service is not for me. You’d be assigned to my daughter on the west coast.” Cora looked disgusted at the dirt staining the glass.

“You want to fly me across the country? Why so far, what’s wrong with the bodyguards over there? You know, the ones with sunglasses and earpieces” Emma questioned, which people obviously don’t do with this woman often: Cora’s eyebrow twitched and she tightened her lips into a thin line before that false smile was back in its place.

“I needed someone with notoriety. I know you have a history around the area and it’s easier to use your reputation as a shield first before any… unpleasantness.” The woman hinted. “However I do understand that you are very talented when it comes to violence, Ms. Nolan.” Emma tensed at that and she snarled. Knowing about what she did was one thing, Cora Mills —whoever she was— knowing her real name was a completely different animal.

“What the hell are you getting at, lady?” She grunted. Cora only smiled.

“I want your word that no harm with come to my daughter. In exchange, you have my word that your secrets are safe with me.” As the older woman said secrets, she slid a Manila folder across the coffee table. The blondes palms began to sweat as she emptied the contents. Inside there were several pictures of her parents, her little brothers and some old friends. All with messy red crosshairs drawn over their heads. “So, Swan, do we have a deal?”


	2. Room 456

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma finds another reason to hate expensive hotels and after some trouble, finally meets a supermodel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a fillery chapter to set up Regina's um... temperament in this stage of her life
> 
> as a side note Regina is around thirty three and Emma is her canon age (twenty eight if you didn't know)
> 
> really sorry for the weird formatting had a bit of technical difficulty
> 
> but again, enjoy <3

Hollywood was a lot different from trailer parks, Emma knew that much as she marched in the direction of yet another obnoxious hotel. 

She tugged at her starched collar childishly. Cora —after threatening her family and anyone that could be vaguely connected to her— informed Emma about the blondes duty to her daughter and what attire was needed for such prestigious babysitting. Regina was a model with a special love for lingerie and swim suits, something her mother obviously had an issue with according to the number of time she spat the word whore. She was doing a shoot at seven sharp that Monday and Emma was to go to her hotel the day before and never leave her side again. Those were her orders along with her god forsaken ‘uniform’. A black suit that she never wanted to wear again if she could help it, she’d protect Cora’s brat but she refused to be uncomfortable doing it. Even if she did like it, —she absolutely did-fucking-not— the suit was also a terrible idea, it makes her another glaringly obvious bodyguard. It took away a lot of potential for camouflage. The woman really didn’t have the tiniest bit of subtlety. 

Even so, the blonde had gone out of her way, getting her jacket cleaned, purchasing a pricey new pair of boots, and buying a few new white shirts. That was going to have to work for everyday use. She took a minute to look around, explore a bit before she arrived at the hotel. 

The streets of LA were odd, people from all walks of life crowded them and had no regard for the others. Emma decided she liked it here, seeing more than a few people dressed as she usually did. The people here looked to be minding their business, blending in shouldn’t be an issue besides the supermodel she’d be dragging around. The hotel wasn’t far from the restaurant she’d had the cab stop in front of. The clerk at the desk was nothing like the one in Cora’s hotel, no, this one decided to make her life hell. 

“ _Miss,_ can I help you?” The woman said sneering. Emma could feel her headache forming now. She loosened her sloppy tie even further and struggled to not roll her eyes as the middle aged woman seemed to just notice the tattoos on her knuckles and neck. 

“Yeah, you can actually, look sweetheart-” 

“I would appreciate if you referred to me by name, Miss.” The clerk said rudely. Emma sighed dramatically, if she’d been allowed to keep her knife the woman wouldn’t have been as quick with her bad manners. Emma took a deep breath, she was calm. 

“Okay, _Jessica_. Yes, you can help me. I’m hear for a client that’s expecting me. Is it okay if I go right u-“ 

“What room? I can call up to make sure they’re, um, expecting you.” There was no hiding the disbelief in the woman’s tone and there certainly was no way Emma could get away with hitting the other blonde so she relented. 

“Room 456, Regina Mills.” 

“Bitch.” Emma muttered as she finally, _finally_ arrived on the floor she was meant to be on fourth five minutes ago. Saying Regina’s name triggered the clerk laughing and waving her coworker over to tell her what she’d just heard. The woman spent a solid 20 minutes trying to tell the doorman about the butch trying to con her way into an underwear model’s hotel room. 

Emma stressed yet again she was here on business for another twenty minutes before the woman called up just for the laugh before going pale as a sheet of paper. Emma would’ve found her stammering apologies and begging funny if she hadn’t been pissed off beyond belief. She just grunted and ‘accidentally’ tossed a trash can in the vague direction of the front desk, kicking over two potted plants before boarding the elevator. 

The door emblazoned with Regina’s number had a do-not-disturb tag and three gift baskets surrounding the frame. Emma, not being one for following directions, bangs her hand on the door loudly. No answer. She bangs again with the same result. The blonde takes far too much joy in turning around and slamming her boot into the wood repeatedly before she gets the lock turn. 

“What do you think you’re doing!?” A female voice screeches. Emma turns around to find one of the sexiest women she’s seen in a long time. The brunette is short with olive skin, a set of pretty brown eyes and pink lips. She’s wearing a hastily tied bathrobe and a look of pure fury on her face. Emma’s only human, she leered at the woman shamelessly, licking her lips at the braless cleavage the split of the robe gifts her and the smooth, shapely legs that the scrap of silk doesn’t reach. “That’s it, I’m calling security!” She raises her voice. Emma smirks leaning into her space, tattooed hands balancing her in the door jamb. 

“No need to call, honey, I’m right here. I’m sure mommy dearest at least called to tell you the news.” The look on the woman’s face was priceless, all she could do was walk away from the door, releasing a sound of frustration and stomping through the hall, probably to find some clothes. Emma made her way into the spacious suite, closing the door and shucking off her jacket and loosening her tie even further beyond repair. The blonde dropped heavily onto the couch and waited for her charge to storm back into the room and storm she did. 

Emma was sad to see the woman fully dressed but took comfort in the fact that the woman still showed enough skin to make the angels cry. Her skirt was tight, barely reaching mid thigh and that beautiful cleavage was still very much on display, only this time the silk was a white blouse. The taller woman couldn’t help but ogle the Latina. 

“I’ll speak with my mother, obviously there’s been some kind of mistake. I have enough bodyguards, surely you’d be more useful to a gang or as an extra in some after school special centered around the dangers of methamphetamine.” The model sneered, Emma only smiled, she liked her women feisty. 

“No mistake, sweetheart, and no, I think I’m useful right where I am.” Just to anger the brunette more she props her boots onto a crisp white ottoman and retrieved a beaten carton from her pocket. “Mind if I smoke?” She says, her words muffled by the cigarette she was already lighting. 

“I absolutely do!” Emma smiled as the brunette stomped her foot, cherry red pumps for a pissed off, cherry red princess. The blonde purposefully blew a plume of grey smoke at the miffed model. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that.” The sound of anger was primal, Regina forcefully and unnecessarily pushed Emma’s leg from the ottoman to get to her phone on the counter. Regina proceeded to initiate a screaming match with her mother that was ultimately in vain. In the time she spent fighting the inevitable, Emma had finished her cigarette and emerged with an expensive bottle of bourbon to entertain herself with in the meantime. 

All in all, she ended up in the guest room with the news that her luggage would arrive later the following day. Long after the sun set and the still angry older woman retreated to the master bedroom to wreak havoc on more people’s lives via telephone, Emma found herself stripped of her shoes staring out of the massive windows. The blonde chuckled at the telltale sound of glass shattering that the brunette most definitely was not getting her way. 

This job should be fun. 


End file.
